


MIT: Rabbit's Foot

by Northumbrian



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Death, Gen, Muggle Interface Team, Muggle/Wizard Relations, Muggles, Mystery, Short
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-17
Updated: 2017-11-17
Packaged: 2019-02-03 14:47:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,126
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12750465
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Northumbrian/pseuds/Northumbrian
Summary: In which the Lavender Brown and the Muggle Interface Team discover that pushing your luck can lead to disaster.





	MIT: Rabbit's Foot

**M.I.T.: Rabbit’s Foot**   


‘That’s Lavender Brown! Get her picture.’

The young photographer followed his colleague’s pointing finger, as did the other people waiting in the queue at the Ministry’s visitor entrance. Hastily lifting his camera, he peered through the viewfinder and adjusted the focus.

Curly brown hair tumbled down the back of the ankle-length black coat she wore. The cloak-like coat flapped open revealing black-stockinged legs, an outrageously short black skirt, and a white blouse open by two buttons more than decorum’s dictates. The photographer, however, found his eyes drawn to something else. The white skull-and-crossed-bones symbol on the black bag she carried in her left hand drew attention to itself by flashing, and the words beneath the warning symbol proclaimed: “DANGER: CURSED ITEM”. As he clicked the shutter release, the young woman he was focusing on turned and gave him a sorrowful smile.

‘Lavender!’ the photographer’s florid-faced companion shouted. ‘Rupert Smith, Daily Prophet. Is it true that you’re a fully qualified Auror?

The photographer was astonished by the inanity of the question. She was wearing the controversial new, and supposedly Muggle-friendly, Auror uniform; she was carrying a cursed-item bag; and she was heading for the staff entrance.

‘She’s not delivering a take-away,’ the photographer observed.

Lavender Brown’s smile widened, and he snapped an even better image than the first.

‘Don’t your colleagues worry about working alongside a werewolf,’ Smith tried again.

Lavender scowled, turned her back on them, and strode through the staff entrance.

‘You missed the photo, you idiot,’ Smith told his photographer.

‘I did _not_! I got two good ones.’

‘But you didn’t get a photo of her snarling!’ snapped Smith. ‘The werewolf Auror snarling, while carrying a bag saying “DANGER: CURSED ITEM”. The headline writes itself!’

* * *

‘This woman, what did she look like?’

‘Long black coat, shortish black skirt, white blouse, decent boobs.’

PC Rodgers took off his helmet, rubbed the sweat from his forehead and slowly shook his head ‘Christ, son! I know that you’re only a PCSO, but you should be able to give us more than that! Hear those sirens? When C.I.D. get here they’ll want to know more than just the size of her bust! Age? Height? Hair colour?’

‘In her twenties. Not tall, five-four at the most. Curly brown hair halfway down her back.’

‘And you saw her going through his pockets?’

‘Not exactly. I was out on the main road when I heard the scream, and the thud.’ The Police Community Support Officer shuddered. ‘I saw her when I got through the arch. She was wearing one black glove,’ he held up his right hand by way of explanation, ‘and she used it to open his fist.’

The PCSO, unwilling to turn and look at the bottle skip—or rather, at the broken-backed corpse lying atop it—waved over his shoulder in the general direction of the crime scene. ‘I couldn’t see what she took from his hand, but she put it into a black bag. I ran towards her, and told her to stop. She looked really sad, close to tears. She looked at me, shook her head, and stepped behind the skip. I went after her, but she wasn’t there. She’d gone! Vanished into thin air.’

‘That’s the problem, son. She can’t have gone, it’s impossible. We’ve looked, there’s nowhere for her to have disappeared to. This is a private car park, there’s only the vehicle arch we came through, and that door into the flats, which is locked.’ He waved at the glass door. ‘From here you must’ve seen her use one of them.’

‘I didn’t. She didn’t! She went ‘round there, and vanished. That’s what happened.’

‘Dodger!’ PC Rodgers’ colleague, who had been looking at the man’s body, pointed at a rucksack on the ground. It had burst open. ‘This bag’s chock full of jewellery, cash, and cards, and there’s a window open on the top floor. I wonder…’ He looked up at the window, and then at the body. ‘Bloody hell, I think this might be “Lucky” Larry Lockwood. If it is, the slippery old sod’s luck’s finally run out.’

PC Rodgers stared into the face of the shaken PCSO. ‘Looks like we’ve got a cat-burglar, dead from a fall, and his bag of swag. Are you sure you saw a busty bird take something from his hand and vanish into thin air? Because she definitely didn’t half-inch his loot.’

Bewildered, the PCSO shrugged.

‘First corpse?’ Rodgers asked.

The young man nodded.

‘And first on scene,’ observed Rodgers compassionately. ‘You’re shaken up, son. Before you give your statement to C.I.D., think very carefully about what you really saw,’

* * *

As he tipped the contents of the jewellery box into his rucksack, Larry Lockwood grinned. He’d be able to sell the car, too. Jimmy Kaye’s boys were always in the market for top of the range cars, and they didn’t come much more marketable than a Range Rover. Looking around the bedroom, he reached into his pocket and stroked the fur. His eyes were immediately drawn to the drawer unit on the opposite side of the bed.

The top drawer was full of underwear. Scooping it out, he threw everything onto the floor. A small square of paper floated free. He caught it mid-air, saw the neatly handwritten list of banks and PIN numbers, and chuckled. He’d taken almost five hundred quid in cash from the purse he’d found in the living room, but now he could use the cards and empty the owner’s accounts. That would be a lot more profitable than simply selling the cards onto one of those creepy tech guys Jimmy would doubtless send him to. Pushing the paper into his pocket and picking up the heavy rucksack, he walked back into the living room.

It was occupied. The curly haired bird in the long black coat was leaning nonchalantly against the open front door.

‘You again! How’d yer get ’ere so fast? What’d yer want?’ As he spoke, he thrust his hand into his pocket.

‘Susan’s already told you. I want the rabbit’s foot,’ she told him. ‘It’s extremely dangerous, Larry. And now you know we know about it, you’re pushing your luck even harder. If you don’t stop, your luck’s going to run out. It’ll be safest for all of us if you hand it over. Please?’

‘What’yer gonna do, try an’ taser me?’ He grinned. ‘Din’t do yer pals any good, did it?’

‘No, it didn’t,’ the young woman in the long black coat admitted. ‘But if we’re right, Larry, you’ve been pushing your luck for years. There should be a warning on that thing, like Felix Felicis: “Excessive consumption is highly toxic and can cause extreme recklessness!” It looks like you’ve made a good haul from this place. I’m not police, I’ll tell you what, I’ll do you a deal. You give me the rabbit’s foot, I step aside, you walk out of here with whatever you’ve stolen.’ She indicated the open door she was standing in.

‘Only if you’ll come with me, darlin’,’ Larry suggested, leering. 

‘You’re not going to get _that_ lucky, Larry,’ she told him. ‘If you want to be lucky in love you’ll need an entirely different type of magic.

He again shoved his hand in his pocket and stroked the fur. She shook her head, folded her arms, and two buttons of her shirt flew across the room. Startled, she looked down at her partially-exposed bra.

‘But that’ll work,’ she admitted.

He held the rabbit’s foot tightly. Without the buttons, she was unable to refasten her shirt. Slowly and cautiously, making no hostile moves, she started to move towards him. Larry came to his senses, stopped staring, and dashed for the kitchen. The window through which he’d entered the luxurious Kensington apartment remained open. Glancing over his shoulder he saw that, despite her careful movements, she had somehow stumbled over a cushion. She was on her hands and knees, on the floor. The view, as she struggled to her feet, was very interesting.

‘I’m Lucky Larry Lockwood,’ he scoffed as he stared. ‘Even if yer gonna let me go, I’m not gonna use the _door_ , darlin’.’

He leapt onto the kitchen bench, and stepped in a pool of liquid soap. Feet flailing, he plunged head-first out of the window. The woman screamed, but he wasn’t worried, his hand was still tight on the rabbit’s foot.

As he tumbled through the air, he wondered how it would save him this time.

* * *

Constable Bobbie Beadle stepped out of the black Range Rover, adjusted her uniform, and placed her reinforced bowler hat on her head.

‘First time back in uniform since I joined your lot,’ she told her two companions cheerfully.

‘Are you sure this will work?’ Susan Bones asked.

‘According to the police gossip, yeah,’ Bobbie assured the slender blonde. ‘By all accounts he’s a real cocky sod. He invites coppers in, and lets us look around. Because he knows we won’t find anything incriminating.’

Walking up to the green-painted door, she knocked, and waited.

‘Good afternoon, constable, to what do I owe the pleasure?’ The man who opened the door was gaunt, grubby, grey-haired, and grinning.

‘Laurence Lockwood?’ Bobbie asked, showing him her warrant card. The man nodded. ‘My name’s Beadle, I’m from Special Branch,’ the lie came surprisingly easily to her. ‘This is Agent Bones,’ she indicated the blonde on her left, ‘and Agent Brown, from MI5. Can we come in?’

‘This is a joke, innit?’ the man asked, stepping aside and ushering them inside. ‘They’re never MI5! He stared at the blonde, and her smaller, curvier, companion. ‘Yer strippers, aren’t yer? Jimmy Kaye sent yer!’

As he followed them into his living room, Bobbie looked around the place. There was a large, flatscreen television on the wall. Five more, all identical and still in their boxes, rested along the wall.

‘Bought ’em for my mates,’ said Lockwood unconvincingly. ‘Got the receipts somewhere, but yer don’t need to see ‘em, do yer?’

‘No,’ Susan spoke first.

Bobbie wanted to disagree, but countermanding Susan at this stage would destroy any pretence of the united front they should present. It seemed that the two witches were rather lax about enforcing Muggle laws. She’d have to speak to them about that.

So, what can I do fer you three _loverly ladies_.’ He managed to turn his final two words into a mountain of misogyny. Bobbie felt her blood boiling, fortunately, Susan and Lavender both remained calm.

‘I’ll get straight to the point, Mr Lockwood,’ Susan spoke precisely. ‘Five years ago, you burgled a property in Chelsea. Among the items you stole was a rabbit’s foot. We’re certain you still have it. If you’ll hand it over to us, we’ll leave.’

Susan’s words doused Lockwood’s smirk with a bucket of ice-cold water. His cocksure attitude was washed away and replaced by panic.

‘Who tole you ’bout my rabbit’s foot?’ he demanded, thrusting his hand into the pocket of the scruffy jeans he was wearing. ‘Whatever you think I did, it weren’t me. I were never at that house. I had a cast iron alibi! And anyway, your lot lost my dabs!’

‘The evidence against you went missing? That was lucky for you,’ observed Lavender pointedly. ‘But you aren’t denying that you own a rabbit’s foot?’

‘It’s mine,’ he admitted. He was again smiling confidently. The severed end of the item he pulled from his pocket was encased in carved silver. The fur on the paw itself was so fine it seemed like the limb had been freshly severed. ‘It aint nicked, darlin’, it’s a family heirloom. Had it fer years.’

Lavender’s face fell. ‘Binky,’ she said. Bursting into tears, she buried her face in her hands.

Startled by her friend’s reaction, Susan drew her wand, and said, ‘ _Accio._ ’

As she was casting the summoning spell, Susan’s wand slipped from her grasp. Instead of the rabbit’s foot, the spell hit the large television on the wall behind Lockwood. As it flew off the wall behind him, Lockwood bent down to pick up a set of car keys from the floor. The television flew over his head.

Bobbie pushed the still sobbing Lavender out of the way, and ducked. Susan dived for her wand. The television crashed into the wall behind them, bounced off, and hit Bobbie squarely in the back. She collapsed to the ground, winded and in pain. In the confusion, Lockwood made for the door. Bobbie struggled, unable to stand because the television’s power cable was tangled around her legs.

‘Taser armed police,’ Bobbie shouted desperately. ‘Taser, Taser.’

As Bobbie discharged the weapon, she realised that in her pain and anger she’d forgotten her training, and all of the protocols. It was something she’d never done before. Her woes were compounded when Susan staggered to her feet, directly into her line of fire. The weapon hit Susan in the back. As she collapsed, twitching, Lockwood ran out into the street.

‘Check Susan,’ Lavender yelled. Wiping her tears on the sleeve of her coat, she followed Lockwood out of the door. She was back in an instant. ‘He’s taken our car!’ she said.

‘I locked it,’ Bobbie protested, checking her pocket for the car keys. They weren’t there. She stared at Lavender in horror.

‘Arthur was right,’ said Lavender. ‘It is like a Luck Potion. He’s determined to keep the ra… rabbit’s foot, so he’s burning up his luck.’ Pulling out her Auror-issue wallet, she opened it, and grabbed her pursuit broom. ‘He’s lasted five years because he’s been careful. But now he knows that we know about the foot, he’ll probably push his luck to breaking point. You take care of Susan. I’ll follow him.’ Taking a deep breath, she shook her head. ‘I know the foot isn’t Binky’s, that won’t work on me again,’ She added

‘Be careful.’ Bobbie warned. Lavender tapped herself on the head with her wand, and fade from sight.

‘I will,’ Lavender’s disembodied voice promised.

* * *

Although he tried not to make it obvious, Arthur Weasley was watching the shorter of the two young women carefully. She was chattering incessantly and inanely. Her talk was entirely of shoes and handbags and boys and bars. The fact that the stony-faced blonde at her side was showing absolutely no interest didn’t appear to be important.

The conversation was utterly alien to Arthur. He was struck by how unlike Hermione she was. Her hair was rather wild, though not as bushy as Hermione’s. That, so far as he could tell, was the only similarity between the two young women. He found himself wondering about his youngest son.

They were walking down a Muggle side street only a few hundred yards from the Ministry. The two Aurors—Bones and Brown—stopped at a glass-panelled door, and Bones opened it. He followed them into a narrow hall, where a staircase led up to a door identical to the one he’d just passed through. Susan Bones, who was obviously a close relative of Amelia Bones, went first. Arthur found himself bringing up the rear, watching Lavender Brown’s long black coat flap as she climbed the stairs. She was still chattering. What had Ron seen in her?

The room at the top of the stairs was occupied by a broad-shouldered woman with short-cropped hair. She sat behind a screen, tapping at a keyboard, and she was smiling a greeting at the two Aurors.

‘That’s a com-stupor!’ said Arthur knowledgeably, pointing at the screen. ‘The Grangers have one. It won’t work if it isn’t _plugged_ in.’ He looked around, searching for the plug.

‘Bobbie, this is Arthur Weasley,’ Susan said. ‘He works in the Misuse of Muggle Artefacts Office. Mr Weasley, this is…’

‘Muggle Police Constable Roberta Beadle,’ Arthur stretched out a hand to greet the woman. ‘Harry’s told me all about you. I’m…’

‘Ginny and Ron’s dad!’ Bobbie smiled. ‘I’m pleased to meet you, Mr Weasley.’

‘Arthur has a case for us’ Susan said.

‘Harry’s already sent me the information,’ Bobbie nodded, and indicated a file with a large MoM-MoMAO label stuck to the front. ‘Is this really a case for us? We’re actually going looking for a lucky rabbit’s foot that was stolen five years ago?’

‘It’s cursed with luck,’ said Arthur seriously. ‘It’s extremely dangerous.’

‘Cursed with luck?’ Bobbie asked.

‘Luck’s tricky,’ Arthur said. ‘Very tricky.’

‘It’s possible to push it a little, Bobbie,’ Susan said. ‘There’s a potion, but if you use it too often…’

‘Look on it like gambling, Bobbie,’ Lavender tried a different tack. ‘With magic you can give yourself a winning streak, but you have to know when to stop. If you push your luck, or get addicted to taking risks, you’re eventually going to lose everything.’

‘Good explanation,’ said Arthur, impressed. ‘Fortune finds a balance.’

Bobbie looked at the serious expressions on the faces of the wizard, and the two witches. Arthur wasn’t certain she fully understood, but the two Aurors should be able to keep her safe.

‘Okay,’ Bobbie shrugged. ‘I’ve checked police files, and I think I’ve already found a possible suspect.’

‘Wonderful!’ Arthur strolled around the desk to take a closer look at the marvellous Muggle machine. ‘That’s it!’ He prodded the rabbit’s foot image displayed on the screen, but it didn’t move. ‘It was enchanted by Caractacus Yaxley, and we’re pretty certain it’s killed at least three Muggles. It might have killed more. We found it just before the war, but before we could organise recovery...’

‘The owner you’d identified was burgled, and the rabbit’s foot stolen.’ Bobby said. ‘I’ve read your files, Mr Weasley, and I’ve checked the police files for the crime. It’s still unsolved. The prime suspect for the burglary was a man named Laurence Lockwood. Initial reports say that his fingerprints were all over the crime scene. But he had an alibi. The local police took him in for questioning anyway, but they found out that the fingerprint evidence had somehow been lost! We can’t be certain he took the rabbit’s foot. He may even have gone straight. Lockwood has never been caught since.’

‘Of course he took it!’ said Arthur excitedly. ‘Lost evidence, and never been caught since! That’s not going straight, it’s the rabbit’s foot, I’m certain. It’s like Felix Felicis, perfectly safe in small doses.’ He sighed. ‘But the Muggles always push their luck, they become reckless, then something terrible happens to them.’

‘I have Lockwood’s current address,’ said Bobbie.

‘Let’s go,’ said Lavender.

‘I could come with you,’ said Arthur hopefully.

‘You haven’t been cleared to operate in the Muggle world, Mr Weasley,’ said Susan. ‘Sorry.’

Arthur sighed. ‘Be very careful, meddling with luck can be very chancy,’ he warned them.


End file.
